More Than Capable
by Red Tigress
Summary: One-shot. The team gets into a bit of a pickle, but everyone's more than capable of handling themselves. Benji and Brandt-centric. Rated for minor language.


_A/N: This is a one-shot, but I had fun writing it. I've been wanting to write something since I saw the movie, and I hope you enjoy it._

The assignment had been relatively simple compared to some of the things they had had to scrap together recently. The four of them had to intercept a foreign aid in the Madrid airport, get contact information off his person, copy it, and then replace it before he knew it had been taken in the first place.

Jane had impersonated a flight attendant to drug his drink right before he landed. Simple enough. Ethan would be a security guard helping him in the bathroom when he became sick, copying the information off his person and using a contact lens camera to photograph and print the information. Benji was set up outside in a boom lift, disguised as an electrician on the wires, but in actuality tapped in to the airport's security systems.

Brandt was the helper, again.

Well, an extra set of eyes, but everyone was calling him "The Helper". The truth was, they didn't know when their target was supposed to meet up with his contact, Escobar Rondalo. They knew it was supposed to be soon after he landed, but it would have been a difficult tail in this situation. So, they opted to retrieve the information and secure their own meeting with the information seller later, one where they could get to know him better.

Rondalo was usually a very security-conscious man, and IMF had a hard time telling when any of his meetings would take place. As someone who sold information that could literally topple governments, he made it his business to be unseen. But in recent months, he had become desperate for business and was taking more risks. Which made it a good time to track him.

Brandt was sitting on a bench with his back to the window, facing the bathroom. He had an empty suitcase with him and was idly flipping through the sports section of the paper. "How's it goin' in there, Leo?" he murmured.

A non-committal grunt by Ethan came back over the comm, and in the background the sounds of someone being violently sick could be heard. Brandt chuckled to himself, leaning back on the bench.

Benji's voice sounded in his ear then; "Jealous you missed the fun, Ares?"

"Not on your life. I thought you wanted the vomit job."

"Nuh-uh, I'm doing the computer stuff, remember? Not my fault none of you can hack into one of the simpler International terminals on the planet."

"Guys, cut the chatter." Jane's voice sounded vaguely irritated.

Benji could be heard clearing his throat uncomfortably with a muttered "Roger, Virgo."

Brandt caught something out of the corner of his eye then, a flurry of movement. He turned his head just enough to see, but his mouth was still covered up by the newspaper. Three black SUVs had rolled up to the passenger pickup curb, parked haphazardly across two lanes. A few men got out of them, one pointing to various places around the terminal and parking garages with practiced ease and precision. The men scattered off, and Brandt just caught the outlines of weapon holsters under their suit jackets. "We got a lot of activity down here. What's the situation, Leo?"

"I got the info, but the target's passed out cold. What kind of activity?" As he said it, the back door of one of the SUVs opened, and Rondalo himself stepped out leisurely, speaking to the man Brandt could only assume was the second in command.

"Rondolo's here. I guess they got impatient waiting for our friend."

Benji's frantic voice came over the comm then. "Guys, um, there are two headed straight at me. I'm getting down now."

"Do you think you've been made?"

Brandt heard two distant gunshots then. "Well, um, yes, because they are FIRING GUNS AT ME!" _Shit._

"Leo, time to go." He dropped his newspaper as he said it, standing up. He looked from the bathroom towards the door where Rondolo's goons were coming in, just in time to make eye contact with the second in command. The man pointed and shouted in his direction, and Brandt took off running in the opposite direction, looking for the way out.

A few people began yelling, but luckily no one had started firing guns yet. Brandt shouldered through the door ahead of him, knocking over a few people trying to come inside. He ignored their cursing. "Pisces, where are you?" He dodged honking cars, running across the road into the parking garage. He ducked as he heard concrete explode behind him from a gunshot. There still hadn't been a response from the tech. "Benji!" he shouted.

A sharp, hot pain seared through the side of his head, and he cried out in pain, falling to his knees. The world was spinning, but he managed to crawl behind a car and draw his gun with one hand, the other clutching his head. He gritted his teeth, willing his world to focus. Already the entire right side of his face felt wet. Swallowing thickly, he stretched upwards, trying to see over the hood of the car. Bullets pinged off the hood and he quickly ducked again, the fast motion making him dizzy. "Shit!" He could hear the echoing footsteps of the goons running towards his position. He turned to face the car, then fell on his side holding his gun in front of him, popping off four shots at the running feet. He was rewarded with screams of pain, and no more running footsteps.

He gingerly touched his head, hissing as he did so. The bullet that clipped him hadn't gone too deep, but it hurt, and bled a lot. He stumbled to his feet, only realizing now that Ethan had been trying to hail him. "I took out two, I'm going after Benji," he said breathlessly.

"We'll pick you up," the team leader responded.

Brandt ran out of the garage as fast as he could without tripping, and saw the boom lift about eight feet above the ground next to the wires Benji had been working with. There was one dead goon in a suit on the ground in front of it, but no sign of Benji. Brandt crouched low with his gun held in front of him, moving closer to the lift. The grass under the lift had been flattened. Benji had probably jumped. But where was he now?

His eye caught something red, and he turned his head towards more trampled patches of grass, with some smattering of blood. Brandt cursed under his breath, but he dared not call out Benji's name. Instead he followed the tracks to the edge of an access road. There was some loose gravel in the shoulder between where the grass ended and the pavement began, leading to an overpass. Brandt moved cautiously towards the overpass with his gun held in front of him. He heard grunting and the sounds of someone struggling. Pressing his back to the wall, wall, he quickly swiveled around with his gun leveled…

…just in time to see Benji flip a goon over his shoulder and stamp on his face. The man on the ground passed out with a low moan. It was only then Benji looked up to see Brandt standing there with a gun pointed at him.

"Jeez, put that away, will you?" Benji's entire left eye was swollen and black, and he had bruises covering his neck, but he still managed to shoot an irritated look at Brandt.

Brandt shouldn't have been surprised, really, not after India, but he was. Benji always just seemed so light-hearted and chipper compared to the rest of them, who always seemed to be carrying huge weights around on their shoulders. But Benji _was_ a trained field agent, and he was more than capable of handling himself.

"What happened to you? You look awful." Brandt was aware he probably had blood covering the entire right side of his face. He holstered his gun.

Brandt smirked. "I was trying to _help_ you. I'm the Helper."

"Ah. Well, thanks. For trying. But I won't be seeing out of this eye for at least a week."

"I got shot in the head!" Brandt whined.

"I had to jump out of a basket!"

"I had to dodge bullets!"

"I had to fight off a guy with my own two hands! I need these hands! For computer stuff! That you all can't do!"

A screech of tires of asphalt sounded and they turned their attention off each other in time to see a dark blue van pull up to them. Jane was driving, still in her flight attendant's uniform. The door slid open and Ethan stared at them for a few seconds, no one saying anything.

Benji pointed to Brandt. "He got shot in the head, you know."

Ethan rolled his eyes, moving backwards into the van, motioning for them to join him.

"Yeah? Well, he jumped out of the boom lift." Brandt mumbled.

Jane made eye contact with Ethan in the rearview mirror as he began rummaging in the first aid kit, first handing Benji an ice pack before finding sutures for Brandt. "Are you two going to be a liability?" she asked, the hint of a smile touching her eyes.

"More so than Ethan? Hardly." Benji huffed.

"Agent Dunn, I don't much care for your tone." Ethan said.

"He's right though, you do all the rough stuff. He's on the computer, I'm the Helper." Brandt chipped in.

Ethan replied by jabbing the pads with the rubbing alcohol onto Brandt's head wound, making him hiss in pain. "The night is young."


End file.
